


Linked Souls

by yeotto (woelfchen)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Adult Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Misunderstandings, Road Trip, Soulmates, both are adults
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-06 19:11:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13417782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woelfchen/pseuds/yeotto
Summary: When he visited Deaton, the Emissary told him: "You have been very lucky. It appears that your soul was blessed and you found your other half. Your destined, a soulmate if you will. Your souls are linked."Derek needs a moment. He can't believe his luck._"Holy crap, god damnit, why does this always happen-" Stiles curses while stuffing as many of his belongings into a duffle bag as he possibly could. He has to get out of here, quickly.





	1. Chapter 1

If Derek had not stopped everything he was doing – including thinking – he'd have gone after him. But he was too caught up in staring down at his own hand, which first glowed a faint silver and then developed a deep red color around his wrist and then all the way down into the center of his open palm. It looked a little like a tattoo, deep inside of the lower levels of his skin.  
The magic had randomly occurred when he'd tried to get a young mans attention. The guy had been walking trough the outskirts of the town, his nose buried in a book. It was endearing enough that Derek took his running break early simply to watch. Then Derek had only tried to stop the guy from walking into a lamp post and touched his shoulder, when a warm tingling in his left hand caught his attention. The guy turned around to face him, and then bolted with a yelp. The only thing that Derek really caught was his beautiful, pale face and shining brown eyes. Derek could only stare.

  
Later, when he visited Deaton, the Emissary told him "You have been very lucky. It appears that your soul was blessed and you found your other half. Your destined, a soulmate if you will. Your souls are linked."  
Derek needs a moment. He can't believe his luck.

 

* * *

 

"Holy crap, god damnit, why does this always happen-" Stiles curses while stuffing as many of his belongings into a duffle bag as he possibly could. He forgoes everything that isn't absolutely necessary. He has to get out of here, quickly.  
In the kitchen, he leaves a quick note for his father ('Magic incident – sorry. I'm off to find Morrell. See you soon') and then he is gone.  
  
Morrell is waiting for him on the porch when he pulls up to her cabin somewhere in the middle of Alaska, because of course she is. “You live in the worst place.” Stiles greets her, “And I hate that I have to travel for 3 thousand miles just to talk to you. Get a phone, damnit! Or a P.O. Box, honestly.”  
“It's good to see you, too, Stiles. Now stop complaining before I'll leave your sorry ass out here while I'm having a nice cup of tea.”  
Stiles quickly makes a zipping motion in front of his lips and follows her inside.  
  
The tea is amazing, and Morrell wouldn't tell Stiles what was in it, but also refuses to talk before he'd drank it all. When the cup was dutifully empty, Stiles sets it down with a sigh. “I'm in big trouble. I thought I had my spark under control, but as it turns out, I don't.”  
Morrell makes a contemplating noise, but doesn't offer her thoughts. She never does that, until she has all the facts.  
“And I didn't even mean to do it, it just happened. This guy just touched me and zap! Magic.” Stiles wishes there was still tea in his cup, just so he could take a sip and have a second to collect his thoughts. “It was a werewolf, I think. His eyes definitely flashed red at me, so it was an alpha, and he was all angry looking. I made it out of there before he could rip me apart. I don't even know what exactly happened to him. Something with his hand, I guess, when he touched me.”  
Again, Morrell just gives a small hum and stirs her tea. Then she focuses her attention on Stiles. “So what you are saying is that you just ran before checking what you caused. All of this could be harmless.”  
  
Stiles hesitates. “I panicked, okay? He was all furrowed eyebrows and red eyes. Whatever my spark decided to do affected him enough to loose control.”  
“Where did he touch you?”, Morrell askes, finally setting her cup down onto the sidetable.  
Stiles shrugs. “My shoulder. What does it matter?”  
“Show me.”  
  
And that's how Stiles finds himself bare chested, sitting on the carpet while Morrell made more humming noises and touches his back with careful fingers for half an hour. Eventually she tells him to get dressed again. Stiles does and she shows him a drawing that she must've made while he was facing away from her. “Seriously woman, get a cellphone. A picture would have been way quicker.”  
She swats his arm for that. “This is better.” with no further explanation as usual.  
  
Stiles gives up and grabs the picture. Morrell drew his left shoulder down to the middle of his back. With red, there is what looks like a red rope, coiled up just below his shoulderblade, with one end sticking up and seemingly reaching out to his neck. “What the hell? Is this on my back?”  
“It is.” Morrell answers. “It seems like you've been marked.”  
Stiles squints at the picture. “What does that mean? Marked for what?”  
  
Morrell stands. “It means that the other person now is connected with you. Given the time and effort, you will find each other again.”  
“Holy crap, I can't go back home again.”

 

* * *

 

  
In Stiles' opinion, his reaction is totally justified. He'd severely pissed of an alpha werewolf, probably leaving him with a new, red tattoo as well. Stiles isn't sure, but he thinks he'd seen the man around town, so he probably lived in the Beacon Hills area. So yeah, Stiles would not go back there for longer than a visit to his father.  
Given the news that Stiles would move out soon, the man was appropriately happy and sad, but he understood his reasoning. He did offer to put a security detail on him, which Stiles appreciated greatly but ultimately turned down. There really wasn't much a deputy could do, if a freaking Alpha decided to charge him.  
  
Also, Stiles had applied to several jobs all over the states anyway, planning to leave his hometown at some time in the near future. His first stop would be Kansas, where he already had a job lined up.

 

* * *

 

Derek was going crazy. He couldn't find the mysterious guy anywhere in town. He was so sure that he'd be around somewhere. So after three weeks of searching with no results, he gives in and goes back to Deaton.  
  
“What is it this time, Derek?”, the Emissary asks, not looking up from the budgie he's examining.  
“I can't find him.”  
Deaton doesn't seem impressed with that. “And when exactly did I became your diary?”  
This is exactly why Derek greatly dislikes the other man. “This mark is magical. Is there any way you could trace it back to its source?”  
Deaton gently coaxes the budgies wing open and examines the underside. “There is.”  
Frustrated with the man, Derek pushes closer. “I want you to do it. What do you need.”  
  
With a sigh, Deaton finally puts the budgie back into its small traveling cage. “Your hand. And a map.”  
  
20 minutes later, Derek is in the Camaro heading east, towards Newton, Kansas.

 

* * *

 

 

He's been in Newton for no longer than 10 days, when Stiles catches a glance of the werewolf in the local Walmart. He abandons his cart and sprints to the exit. His jeep is parked on the other side of the lot, but he makes it just fine. He sends a small prayer heavenwards, he's not gonna die in a walmart parking lot, thank you thank you thank you. Only when he's safely inside, and the doors are locked, does he look around for the werewolf. He seems to not have spotted him, but the knowledge that he's close by is enough for him to decide to leave again. Stiles drives back to the motel he's currently staying in and collects his stuff, pays at the front desk and leaves. Only when he's halfway to Louisiana does he call his employer and tells him he'll not return.  
He gets chewed out, but somehow he convinces the enraged woman to still pay him.

 

* * *

 

 

Derek can't stop staring at his tattoo. This afternoon, it started tingling and he thought that he'd been close. The ritual Deaton had performed had only intensified the urge to find his soulmate. It's not even optional any longer, Derek needs to find him. It's mandatory.  
  
The tingling had stopped, and somehow he knew. He needed to see Deaton again.

 

* * *

 

 

Lafayette is nice enough. Stiles had found a student desperate for a roommate close to the University, and it turns out that Ray is a huge nerd and collector of video games. Needless to say, they form a quick friendship when they're both home.  
  
The job Stiles had lined up was already gone, no surprise there, it had been over a month, so Stiles looked elsewhere for work. A hardware store offered him a steady morning shift, and he found a café that needed someone for cleanup in the afternoon. Neither was what he liked to do, but he takes both jobs. He works there for two weeks, but starts calling around to the other places he'd talked to before.  
A country club in South Carolina wants to hire him for the front desk, and he figures what the hell. So he tells Ray that he's moving out again, and their friendship is in shambles.

 

* * *

 

 

When Derek reaches Lafayette, he knows he's too late. The more time goes on, the easier it is to concentrate on the tingling feeling and the distance he's away from his destined. He still rents a room for a night, determined to get to the bottom of this.  
He lays down in the dusty bed to rest, trying to fall asleep. Instead, his mind wanders to the stranger he is chasing, wondering if all of this is even worth it. He's spent nearly a month on the road now, and this isn't working for him.  
  
“A week.”, he tells himself firmly, “If I haven't found him by then, I'm going back home.”  
He turns to his side, the bed creaking dangerously beneath him, wanting to fall apart. Derek pays it no mind, instead trying to ignore the little voice in his head that tells him “Don't give up” and “You're close, I promise”  
  
  
In the morning, he tosses his bag into the trunk, but decides to stay in town for a while still. He eventually finds a little café that somehow caught his attention. There is a hum in his magical tattoo now, and this simply can't be a coincidence. He orders a cappuccino and settles down in a corner, scowling. Something here is off, he just doesn't know what it is. When he's nearly done with his drink, he realizes that it's the scent in the air. There isn't much, just a hint of it left, the same sweet undertone that he now realizes was present in that walmart back in Kansas, when he thought he was close. Warmth spreads in his stomach and he knows he's on to something.  
  
He confronts the waitress, but she is terrified of him, and apparently new to the job. So he finds the manager. “I'm looking for someone”, he tells the man. “About my height, pale, with dark hair. I think he might have been in a couple times?”  
The manager looks at him, completely unimpressed. “You mean Stiles? Yeah, he worked here, then he just up and left. Had to find another replacement on short notice.”  
The warmth in his stomach surges. Stiles. That's the name he hadn't known he'd been looking for, he knows it. “Yeah. Him. Listen, I'm looking for him, his parents are worried. Do you know where I could find him?”  
The manager eyes him for a long time. Then apparently decides that Stiles isn't his problem any longer and gives him an address. Derek thanks him, then warns him off not to give someones address out, what if someone was out to kill someone? Also, the ventilation system needs to be looked at, the air doesn't circulate well.  
  
  
The address turns out to be a tall apartment complex. He lurks around until somebody unlocks the entry door, then slips in when they carelessly let it fall shut behind them. He takes the stairs, focused at finding the scent he's identified as his mates. He finds it concentrated at the top floor, so he knocks at the door it comes from the strongest.  
A shaggy looking guy, dressed only in his boxers opens it. “Hey man, you're early. Come right in, I'll just get dressed.”  
  
  
Confused, Derek enters the room. It smells strongly of the guy, but also his mate. The guy disappears into one of the 3 doors, but continues talking to him. “Yeah, go ahead and take a look around. The room to the left would be yours, the previous guy left on short notice. You don't do that kinda crap right? By the way, what's your major? I don't really don't want a roomie who doesn't go to-”  
“I'm looking for Stiles.”, Derek interrupts and is immensely satisfied by the way the name rolls off his tongue. It's strange but nice, and his mouth could form it all day long without getting tired. He still checks out the room to the left, finding it empty, but smelling the strongest of his destined.  
  
  
The guy comes back and stares at him, now at least wearing some sweatpants. “What the hell, man? Are you his drug dealer? You look like a drug dealer. Listen, man, I won't pay you what he owes. He wouldn't even pay the full months rent, claiming he wasn't even here this long.”  
Derek frowns. “Was he taking drugs?”  
“You tell me, man! He's a crazy asshole, that's for sure. What are you looking for him for anyways?”  
Derek doesn't like the way this guy is talking about Stiles, but decides to let it slide. “His family is worried about him. Do you know where he could be?”  
  
The guy stares at him. “Why would he be worried? Stiles called his dad nearly every day.”  
“Still. It's different, hand he misses him. He needs to come home.” Derek is determined to find something. And the guy doesn't seem like the brightest bulb, so hopefully he'll give up what he knows.  
“Listen, man, Stiles just packed up and left. He left the state, you're not gonna find him here.”  
Derek fights to not show his exasperation show. “Yeah, that's typical behavior. Do you know where he's headed to next?”  
“Yeah, uh – I think he mentioned South Dakota- no South Carolina? One or the other.”  
By now, Derek has trouble controlling himself. This guy was just grating on his nerves. “Well, which is it? There's a huge difference there.”  
  
The guy splutters. “Uh - well, I – Carolina? I think? Yeah, that one. Wait hang on a second. Uh- Columbia. The one with Columbia. Something about a job opportunity.”  
“You better hope that there is no Columbia in South Dakota,” Derek growly at him, “or you're gonna have a rough wakeup call someday.”

 

* * *

 

 

Against his better judgment, Stiles likes working at the Country Club. Sure, most of the members are assholes, but he finds that most of them find it endearing when he's an asshole right back. The only thing that's really annoying to him is the damn bell on his front desk. It seems to be rung immediately whenever he turns his back.  
So when he's in the back room, flipping trough the mail to get it organized, he's not surprised when the damn bell rings again. He calls “I'll be right with you”, and puts down the letters. He straightens his tie and waistcoat, because that's mandatory dresscode, and runs his fingers trough his hair to make it stand up. The ladies walking in and out seem to enjoy that look a lot.  
  
In front of the desk, the scary alpha werewolf scowls at him, and Stiles freezes at the door. “Please don't kill me”, Stiles asks him, the same moment the werewolf says: “Please don't run away.”  
  
“Wait what?”, Stiles asks.  
“Don't run away. I've finally found you. I've been looking for you in 3 states. Please don't – I need to talk to you. Please.”  
Mary Walkers, one of the elderly ladies of the club, coos at that from where she just entered.  
  
  
Stiles does a quick check with his magic to try and get the true intention of the werewolf out of his emotions. Desperation and Hope. Huh. So Stiles promises to take his break after he helps Mary. Maybe he'd just overreacted. One way or another, he'll find out in a minute.

 


	2. Chapter 2

The panic sets in while Derek waits for Stiles to finish up helping the woman at the counter with something. What was he supposed to do now? Honestly, during the entire time of his chase, he never planned so far ahead.

He paces the space between one of the couches in the lounge and the elevator, his hands behind his back, but his face always turned towards his mate. He wasn't gonna loose Stiles now on the off chance that he might run when Derek isn't looking. Stiles throws him curious looks, but doesn't exactly smile at him. The woman takes her sweet time talking to him, and Derek is so damn grateful. Now he has the time to plan what he was going to say. Maybe he could start with an introduction? Yeah, that seems like a good idea. _Hi, I'm Derek. You're Stiles and I've been looking for you._

Yeah.

 

Scrap that. He wasn't a crazy stalker, although Derek crossed the states to follow him, so... Yeah, still not leading with that. God what even made him do that in the first place? That was definitely not what Derek usually would do.

Doubt spreads in his chest. This was not what Derek normaly would do, but then it could only have been caused by magic? Derek throws Stiles a sinister look, to which the younger man frowns. Crap, no, this was not what Derek wanted to do either. He quickly adverts his gaze, paces a round more, before he finally dares glance back at Stiles.

 

Oh no. Stiles was finishing up with the woman. She patted his cheeks in a motherly way before she turned to go deeper into the building. Derek froze. This was it. Stiles squared off his shoulders before he addressed Derek. “I'm just gonna tell my boss that I'm going to take my break early. Stay here. I promise to be back in a minute.”

 

 

Relief and dread washed trough Derek simultaneously. What if the human was lying? No wait, Derek would have heard that in his heartbeat. But what if he could? He could use magic, after all. Then, a hopeful feeling let him know that Stiles would come back, and they would talk, and he'd be Derek's. And woah, okay. Where did that thought come from? Derek certainly wasn't the possessive type, never was. And Stiles didn't seem like the kind of person that would just accept a werewolf's claim like that.

 

Stiles walks into the backroom, while Derek keeps pacing. _Okay, Derek, focus. Be nice. Talk about this,_ Derek reminds himself. _Keep it civil. Introduce yourself. Make a declaration. No. Not that. Ask if you can talk._

Derek frowns. Technically this was already going to be their talk. This wasn't going to work either. He stops in front of a gaudy painting, staring at the fat cow it was depicting. _I'm Derek. I want to talk about what you did to me._

That probably wouldn't work either. Too threatening, probably, since the human did appear to be frightened of him. Frightened enough that he kept running from Derek. _I 'm not mad at what you did to me. In fact, an Emissary explained to me that it was something very good._

 

Derek nodded to himself. That was a good way to start things off. Taking away any assumptions Stiles might have, and interest him into the conversation. He smiles to himself, taking a deep breath. He could do this. Make Stiles like him. Or at least make him not afraid of Derek. Yeah. Easy.

 

 

The cow was kind of really creepy. The longer Derek stared at it, the more it felt like it was staring back at him. So he started pacing again. _Hey, Stiles. I know your name from your former roommate, so don't freak out._

And that exact sentence would probably make him freak out, so that was going to be scrapped as well. Maybe the human should introduce himself, just so he'd feel like he'd volunteered that information himself. Derek nodded to himself. Probably a good idea. _Hey, I'm Derek. I'm not mad about the magic, but we should talk about what happened. The universe has chosen us for each other._

Total overkill. Not what he was going to open with. _Maybe we could get to know each other for a little bit? See if we can figure out why this happened to us?_

Yeah. That was nice. No pressure, voluntary getting to know each other. But also a lie, since Derek already knew the truth. He wasn't sure he could lead Stiles on like this.

 

 

“Hey, so, I have half an hour. Want to go for a walk?”, Stiles suddenly asks him from behind. Derek swivels around to face him. Derek isn't entirely sure what his face is doing, but Stiles frowns at him again, his shoulders drawing up in a defensive stance.

Derek nods. “Lead the way.”

 

They go outside, down the wide pathway up to the club. Derek sees his car in the parking lot to the right and briefly considers just hightailing out of here. Then he remembers that he's an adult and should be able to deal with this awkward situation where neither of them says a word, and they just kind of shuffle alongside each other. They end up taking a left turn still on club grounds and walk into a nicely kept garden. Precise bushes line the perfectly even path, white benches every so often along the way.

“Sooo,” Stiles starts when they've almost made it all the way to the other side of the garden. “I'm really sorry that this thing happened. I swear, I'm usually good about keeping _it_ under lock and key. I didn't want to cause any harm. My best guess is, that I kinda reacted to your own brand of mojo?”

 

Derek frowns. “You marked me.”

Stiles turns with a dramatic flail “I didn't mean to and I said I was sorry, man!” He hits Derek on the shoulder, then immediately draws back his hand, startling backwards a step, his eyes wide.

“Don't.” Derek says, “I never said I mind. Don't apologize.”

Derek shrugs when Stiles regards him with one narrowed eye. Only one. It should be weird, but for some reason, Derek thought it was endearing. Definitely unique.

 

“Well, you _should_ mind. That thing might be permanent.”, Stiles says. Somehow, he sounds indignant instead of apologetic. Derek smiles at that. Of course, the universe would settle him with a feisty one.

“I can see how this happened. We fit well.”

 

 

Stiles stops abruptly, turning to him, staring aghast. “What now?”

Derek curses. This was most definitely not how he wanted to start this conversation. He turns to Stiles, holding his hands out in a pacifying gesture. “An Emissary told me. He said the universe wanted us to meet, so I went out to find you.”

Derek suppressed the urge to facepalm right in front of the human. He'd been so much more eloquent when it was all in his head. This is why he didn't seek out company on a regular basis. “So you just went to sniff me out? What the hell? And what kind drugs does this Emissary of yours take?”

 

“First of all, he's not my Emissary. Just one that I know. After – I don't have a Pack right now, but the Emissary keeps me grounded. It's a mutual agreement.”

“That still doesn't explain why you're not tearing out my throat right now.” Stiles crosses his arms over his chest. He seems to take a great affront to not be murdered. Derek can't help but chuckle. “I told you, the universe-”

“Yeah no. That's some weird mumbo jumbo that I'm not going to believe. There is no such thing as destiny or fate or whatever cosmic prophecy you're thinking about”

 

Derek frowns. “It's no mumbo jumbo. It's bonds. Like in a pack. You heard about the bonds my kind forms, right?” His voice comes out tinier and sadder that he'd ever thought possible. He refuses to categorize it as a whine.

With a great heaving sigh, Stiles drops onto one of the benches. “I mean, I know that were-” he hesitates and glances around. There is no one there but he still corrects himself, “your kind have something special. I'm not one of you though. There is no reason why this should have happened.” He gestures vaguely towards Derek's hand, then to his shoulder.

 

Derek takes a moment to think about his next words carefully. He takes a deep breath, reminding himself to keep calm, and squares his shoulders off. “I feel like we have started on the wrong foot with all this. Shall we try again?”

He waits until Stiles nods tentatively. “Hi. My name is Derek. When we first ran into each other, something magical happened, and I think we shall explore that a little more. It could be exciting for both of us. What do you say?”

 

Stiles smiles at him, and Derek counts that as a win. “It's nice to meet you, Derek. I'm Stiles. I've moved a couple times recently and would like to explore the city. You up for that?”

Derek responds with a big smile of his own. “I would like that very much. Maybe I can take you out for coffee later and we can get to know each other, and figure out what the magic had in mind?”

“I mean, I'm at work right now, but I think I'd like that.” Stiles agrees, his eyes downcast, suddenly shy.

 

 

A sudden warmth in his hand startles Derek. The tattoo that appeared around his wrist and in his palm seems to fade, beginning at the lowest point. The warmth spreads up his arm, so Derek pulls back his sleeve, only to discover the line actually _moving up_ to his biceps. A gasp from Stiles alerts him that he is affected as well. Derek glances up just in time to see Stiles stretch out his collar to stare down on his shoulder. The warmth spreads further up his arm, over his shoulder. Stiles stares at him, wide eyed and with an open mouth. Finally, the warmth settles on his chest. He chances a look at the stringy mess off a tattoo bunched up in a tangled mess right between his pectorals.

“What just happened?”, Stiles chances.

“I have no idea.”, Derek responds. “Let's not freak out about it though, okay?”

“Yeah, right. Totally not freaking out again.”

Derek can't help but smile at him. “I can see that.”

 

* * *

 

 

Over the next couple of months, years even, every so often, the tattoo will shift, getting straightened out, changing it's form. Derek and Stiles end up moving back to Beacon Hills after some time, having become tentative friends in Columbia. They learn to trust each other more, starting to rely on the other, and eventually start dating. Derek finally feels safe enough to be open about the topic of mates. Predictably, Stiles freaks out again, but Derek is quick to remind him that their love is natural, not magic-made. They fell for each other without the help of some external force.

Every time they make up after a fight, every time they learned to trust each other more, the tattoo shifts. Over time, it becomes a beautiful, intricate, celtic knot, interwoven in a stunning pattern. The last time it shifts is on their wedding day, straightening out the last bumps.

Stiles keeps complaining that his magic had them literally tying the knot. Derek couldn't be any more delighted because yes, this is exactly the kind of mischief Stiles magic _would_ be up to.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am amazed about the comment culture. This continuation is for those who've actually left encouragement instead of something ranging between vaguely threatening to plain insulting (which I've deleted by the way. F-U)


End file.
